


Handle with Care

by lil_Tasha



Category: Magnum P.I. (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Buckle up folks, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Higgy has it rough in this one, Juliet Higgins needs a Hug, Miggy - Freeform, drunk Juliet Higgins, emotionally hurt Juliet Higgins, i'm so mean to my faves oops, might be some fluff at the end, this may get a little long so bear with me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:20:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23915218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lil_Tasha/pseuds/lil_Tasha
Summary: Based loosely on 1x15.
Relationships: Juliet Higgins & Thomas Sullivan Magnum IV, Juliet Higgins/Thomas Sullivan Magnum IV
Comments: 17
Kudos: 93





	Handle with Care

**Author's Note:**

> Since 1x15 wasn't emo enough for me considering what happened, then I’m adding my own angst. Also, I may have rewritten a few things from the end of the episode so this oneshot makes more sense and may be slightly stretching the boundaries of their S1 relationship. Just go with it.
> 
> I got a little carried away with this one. Buckle up, folks.

Blood wasn’t something that usually bothered Juliet Higgins. Hell, she was former MI6, she had seen her fair share of blood一certainly more than the average person would deem as a “normal” amount. So why was it that the now dried up crimson staining her pale skin had her biting her tongue to keep the bile in the back of her throat at bay?

_“Magnum!” Her heels pounded against the pavement as she bolted from the Ferrari over to the PI looking worse for wear sitting next to the overturned truck. She was kneeling at his side in an instant, a slender arm wrapping around his upper body to guide him down carefully on her outstretched leg._

_The blood splotch on his shirt grew with each passing moment and she didn’t hesitate to press her hands onto the wound. Immediately, the warm sticky liquid pulsed in between her fingers. His lack of response to the stimulus sent every alarm bell in her head off._

_“We need an ambulance!” she yelled, Rick coming up on her left._

_“There’s one on the way,” he told the majordomo, but her mind had already begun blocking out anything and everything surrounding her that wasn’t Magnum._

_“We need you to wake up. An ambulance is on the way,” Higgins said, attempting to keep her voice firm, and unwavering. “You need to wake up and tell me to stop worrying.”_

_A siren blared in the distance._

_“Please, Thomas.” Her voice betrayed her and tears pricked uncomfortably at her eyes. “Please,_ I _need you to wake up.”_

_Without warning, two pairs of gloved hands were tugging Juliet’s away and despite every muscle in her body wanting to resist, the barely functioning logical side of her brain forced her to comply. She allowed them to take him away._

Ah. Right.

Having the blood of someone she cared about on her was forgien territory. And blood was _not_ the easiest thing to remove from one’s skin.

Higgins had been in the hospital bathroom since Rick managed to get her back into the Ferrari so he could drive them there, her eyes staring blearily at her hands for the duration of the seven minute ride.

The combination of scalding water and furiously scrubbing at her hands with soap was useless. It likely didn’t help that she couldn’t get her hands to _stop trembling_ or the tears in her eyes to _bugger off_.

“Juliet,” a gentle, almost maternal voice called, somewhere to her right.

For the second time that day, a pair of hands were pulling hers away from something.

“Come on.” The owner of the voice led her from the bathroom and her eyes met Kumu’s when she looked up. “Everyone’s looking for you.”

TC’s voice was the first to greet her as she stepped into the waiting room. “There she is.”

Rick and Katsumoto were on either side of him.

“Thomas is awake,” he said with a relieved smile. “We wanted to wait on you before seeing him.”

Higgins nodded and by the time they reached Magnum’s room, she had replaced the look of anguish on her face with something more pleasant. If he did see past the facade and noticed the distress in her eyes, he never commented on it.

Even once back at Robin’s Nest, Juliet didn’t permit herself to fall apart. She _couldn’t_. It was a privilege she knew she didn’t deserve, not while Magnum recovered from a gunshot wound mere inches north of his heart.

The majordomo was well aware him being shot hadn’t _actually_ been her fault. She didn’t pull the trigger, Hannah did. But for the very small reason nagging in the back of her mind that she absolutely refused to admit, she placed some of the blame on herself.

Was it foolish and unlike her to condemn herself for something she didn’t cause? Completely.

Did it stop her from doing so? Unfortunately, no.

Sleep evaded her as she tossed and turned for most of the night and come sunrise, she found herself sitting at her desk in front of her laptop. Trying to get any work done, however, when her mind was somewhere else entirely was only adding to her gradually rising frustration levels and less than an hour later, she was closing her laptop, an exasperated sigh passing her lips. She needed a distraction that would make her feel somewhat productive, so she headed to her room, and changed into a sports bra, a pair of leggings, and sneakers.

Deciding to take a run on an empty stomach hadn’t been one of her brightest ideas in conjunction with the migraine she’d felt budding behind her eyes since walking out to the beach. Despite Higgins recognizing the warning signs her body was sending her as she pushed herself, she actively disregarded them.

The lads sensed the danger in their mistress’ actions long before the consequences hit her. They barked relentlessly at her in hopes she would _just stop_. It’s not like there was much else they could do.

But her internalized irritation overflowed and she snapped. “ _Nyet!”_

Right away, they fell silent. Higgins didn’t miss the whimpers that followed because she had _never_ raised her voice at them.

The remainder of the run was quiet apart from her wheezing the last couple hundred feet back to the main house. She stumbled through the door and collapsed hard onto the floor on her hands and knees, face flushed, and breaths labored. Her vision blurred and her head wouldn’t stop pounding, so she squeezed her eyes shut, and lie on her side.

Zeus and Apollo paced worriedly and she knew their instinct to go find help would eventually take over. To keep them at bay, Juliet gave them a soft “ _nyet”_ because once the pain finished running its grueling course, she would be fine. They just had to let her wait it out.

Having finally come to the conclusion pacing wouldn’t improve the situation, the lads tucked themselves in front of her, and nuzzled their heads against her stomach. In no time, she was welcoming the darkness that accompanied unconsciousness.

Dusk had been descending over the ocean when Higgins’ brain commanded her eyes to open and her limbs to move. Zeus and Apollo were on their feet as she propped herself up onto her elbows, wincing at the sharp pain in her temples, and the ache settled deep in her overextended muscles. Gradually, she rose to her feet and trudged the short distance to the kitchen, the lads close by.

The world tilted on its axis and her hands shot out to seize the edge of the counter, knuckles turning ghostly white. Closing her eyes, she ordered herself to _breathe_.

_In for four._

_Hold seven._

_Out for eight._

_In for four._

_Hold seven._

_Out for eight._

“Okay,” she muttered to herself. “You’re fine.”

From across the room, the obnoxious _Bang the Drum All Day_ associated with Magnum’s contact blared throughout the otherwise quiet area.

“Bloody hell.” Glancing down to her left, she told Apollo, “Retrieve.”

The Doberman trotted off in the direction of her phone, delicately picked up the device, and returned to her. She thanked him and tapped the green circle on the screen to accept the call.

_“Hey, Higgy!”_

Higgins cringed and questioned through gritted teeth, “Must you yell, Magnum?”

_“You sound terrible,”_ he commented.

“I’m hanging up now.”

_“No, no, no. Don’t hang up,”_ the PI said quickly. _“I just wanted to check in on you and see how you were doing.”_

“I should be the one checking in on you.”

He chuckled. _“I’m doing great actually. The hospital is discharging me in an hour. Rick and TC are gonna pick me up.”_

“I….” she trailed off, hand rubbing absently at her forehead. “That’s great news, Magnum.”

There was a long pause.

_“Higgins,”_ he said softly and something about his tone riddled her with even more guilt.

“I’m fine, Magnum,” came the automatic reply. “Don’t worry about me. You just focus on resting up until you’re discharged, alright?” She didn’t leave any room for dispute.

He sighed, sounding dissatisfied with her response, though not surprised. _“I’ll see you later.”_

She disconnected the call and set her phone on the counter. Zeus popped up into her line of sight on his hind legs, chin and front paws resting on her arm.

“Ah, ah.” Juliet shook her head, and told him, “You know better.”

He whined at her as if to protest, but complied nonetheless. Reaching down, she pet their heads before crossing the kitchen to the liquor cabinet.

Drinking on an empty stomach with a migraine was, _once again_ , not one of the better ideas she had conjured up that day. And the lads seemed to think so as well, making their discontent known with a _woof_. The majordomo turned to face them, a bottle of Balvenie Scotch in one hand, and an old fashioned glass in the other.

“Well, you’ve both been quite talkative lately,” she said, making her way over to the couch.

They followed her, Zeus giving another _woof_ , and Apollo lying down by the couch.

She sat and placed the bottle and glass on the table in front of her, then pointed a finger at the offended Doberman. “You, sir, are on thin ice. Lie down.”

He did as he was told and she swore she heard him huff.

Higgins opened the Balvenie and filled her glass about halfway. Taking her first sip, she made a soft noise of approval as the velvety sweet citrus worked its way across her taste buds, followed by a subtle hint of cinnamon and nutmeg, then honey. For the briefest of moments, she closed her eyes and savored the various cohesive flavors. But when the moment was over, she downed the rest of the drink, and poured herself more.

Although Juliet’s body possessed quite a high alcohol tolerance for its small stature, the bothersome voice in the far back corner of her brain told her to _slow down_. Slow down and give the effects of the 44% alcohol a chance to reveal themselves.

Choosing to neglect her body’s wishes once more is how she found herself nursing a sixth— _or was it her seventh?_ —glass of scotch by the time Magnum returned to the estate. She never heard him come in or saw the way the lads didn’t pay him any mind because they were so focused on their _very_ drunk mistress.

“Higgins?”

The majordomo’s eyes were glassy and unfocused as they roamed the room in search of the voice. She tilted her head to the side at finding him in the doorway.

“Oh.” A lopsided smile formed on her lips. “Hi, Th’ms.”

“Are you drunk?” he asked, warily moving toward the couch.

“ _Areyoudrunk?_ ” Her accent sounded thicker, causing her already slurred words to meld together.

The PI sat, leaving an arm’s length distance in between them. “You’re drunk,” he confirmed.

“ _So_ osbev….osbervent….obser….” She huffed and tried again. “Observant.”

Magnum managed to suppress a chuckle at her pronunciation struggle. “Higgy, how much have you had to drink?”

Higgins squinted down at her nearly empty glass and knocked back the remainder of the amber liquid before replying, “Six.” She held her free hand up. “Wait. Seven.”

His eyes widened. “Seven _full_ glasses of scotch?” And he wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or disturbed.

“Mmmm, no. Half.” She leaned forward, hand reaching for the bottle in front of her.

But Magnum was quick to snatch it off the table. It felt entirely too light in his hand and this was the first time he’d taken a second to look at the bottle. How did someone as small as Juliet Higgins drink what had to be at least ¾ of a bottle of Scotch all by herself?

“Give it.”

He shook his head and stood. “I think that’s more than enough for one night.”

Higgins rose to her feet, though the movement was lacking its usual grace and fluidity, and she blinked rapidly to clear her swimming vision. “Give it,” she repeated.

“You’ve already drank more than half of this bottle.”

“And?”

He sighed. “Higgins….”

“M’gnum.”

“You need to get some rest.”

“I’m fine.”

There those two words were again.

“You look like you’re about to either pass out or throw up, so I beg to differ.”

Higgins pursed her lips and made an attempt to glare at him. He knew it was meant to be intimidating and had she been sober, that’s definitely how it would’ve looked. But in all honesty, he almost thought it was cute. _Almost._ And because he valued his life, sober or not, he would never risk saying it within earshot of her.

“Kay,” she grumbled.

Magnum looked entirely too pleased with himself, though he refrained from teasing her. There would be plenty of time for that once she was sobered up and could fire back with her typical cleverness. He set the bottle of Balvenie down on the table before extending a hand. She grudgingly grasped it and took a step in his direction.

It had slipped Higgins’ intoxicated brain how complicated walking became while drunk until she was practically collapsing on Magnum who barely caught her. One of his hands was holding her bicep, whereas the other was at her lower back. He figured she didn’t notice because she wasn’t telling him off, but he moved it further up anyway to be safe.

“You good?” he asked softly, helping her find her balance, and stand up straight.

Higgins’ eyes were closed, hands clutching his forearm. “Mmhmm.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded, though when he ducked his head, he could see her face was pinched, and he felt her sway.

“Higgy….”

This time, she shook her head and the PI maneuvered himself around her until he could lift her suddenly trembling body into his arms. The strain pulled at his stitches and he winced, but putting the bearable pain aside, he focused on Higgins.

“Keep your eyes closed. I’ve got you.”

Magnum efficiently, but carefully, carried Higgins into her room, Zeus and Apollo trailing quietly behind him. He laid her in her bed, the lads hopping up to lay by her feet. She shifted with a small groan, hand moving to press against her forehead.

Taking into consideration how much alcohol she’d just had to drink, he didn’t think it would be a good idea to give her any type of pain medication so soon. But seeing her discomfort made his heart clench. He went into her bathroom, grabbed a face cloth, and doused it in cold water, then took it out to Higgins.

“Can you move your hand for me?” he asked, watching as her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “I brought a cold damp face cloth to put on your forehead.”

Higgins was slow to react, but once her hand fell away, Magnum had the face cloth across her forehead in a heartbeat, and she exhaled shakily.

“I’ll come back in the morning.”

She reached out blindly, catching what she didn’t realize to be his hand in her own. “Stay?”

And he couldn’t bring himself to deny her request.

The PI gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Okay. Let me get a chair and I’ll sit by the bed.”

Seemingly content with his answer, Higgins released his hand, allowing him to pull the chair in the corner of her room to her bedside. Neither Zeus or Apollo batted an eye at him.

“Th’ms?”

“Yeah?”

“Th’nk you.”

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You’re welcome, Higgy. Now get some rest. I’m right here.”

The sun hadn’t even completely risen when Juliet was dragging herself out of bed, and almost tripping over her feet in her haste to get into the bathroom. She dropped to her knees in front of the toilet, hands gripping its edges as she retched.

Four flushes and eleven minutes later, she could finally sit back. Her throat burned, her abdomen was sore, and her head may as well have had a hammer pounding away at it, but she no longer felt nauseous, so that was a start. She gradually got her feet back underneath her and left the bathroom.

The lads already had the sense to be off her bed by the time she returned and were sitting by her nightstand. They followed her out of her bedroom to the kitchen where Magnum was attempting to work the coffeemaker. It beeped at him and he groaned.

She winced, the shrill sound ringing in her ears. “What in the bloody hell do you think you’re doing, Magnum?”

His shoulders jumped and he turned to face her. “I was trying to be thoughtful and make you coffee, but your coffeemaker isn’t cooperating.”

Higgins rolled her eyes and walked over to the machine. She pressed two buttons and within seconds, coffee was dripping into the mug below the spout.

“That thing is rigged.”

“If that’s what will help you sleep at night.”

“Speaking off sleep, how did you sleep last night?” he asked her softly, reaching behind himself for the two Tylenol he’d left on the counter earlier, and handing them to her.

She shrugged, taking the pills from him, and removing the coffee mug from under the machine. “Fine, I suppose.”

He nodded, waiting for her to swallow the Tylenol before gently prodding, “Do you remember what happened last night?”

Juliet visibly cringed, eyes choosing to look anywhere that wasn’t at him. “More than I’d like,” she admitted, fingers curling around the mug, and absorbing its warmth.

“Why were you drinking last night?”

It didn’t even take seeing the dangerous look in her eyes when she met his gaze for Magnum to _know_ he’d made a mistake voicing that question. He reached out to her and opened his mouth to speak again, but her body went rigid and she took a step back. The lads moved to stand quietly in between them. A slap to the face would’ve been far less painful.

“I think you should go,” she told him, voice steely and cautionary and so unlike Juliet Higgins.

Except this was her telling him nicely. And normally, he would press for an answer, but there was _something_ in her body language and the air around them he couldn’t decipher that told him not to. So he stood down.

“Okay.” Magnum didn’t miss the way some of the tension in her body dissolved at his lack of argument. “I guess I’ll see you later.” At that, he left without another word.

Higgins set her mug down on the counter with a small sigh and headed to her bedroom. She closed the lads out of the bathroom as she walked inside and peeled her clothes from her skin.

Stepping into the shower, she had hoped the cold water would somehow help stave off the tears burning behind her eyes. It didn’t and within a few minutes, Juliet was sliding down the shower wall to the floor, knees pulled up to her chest. In her hungover state, holding herself together wasn’t anywhere near the top of her list of priorities anymore. The guilt she had been forcing into submission broke free and reversed their roles. She couldn’t stop the tears or the sobs bubbling forth from somewhere deep within her—a place foreign that she hadn’t visited in _years_.

_It’s your fault_ , that tiny harmful voice in her head spat.

_You saved him_ , another retorted.

_But you should have tried to stop it_ , the first fought back.

_He’s alive because of you_.

_He could have died because of you_.

Juliet closed her eyes, head between her hands. “Stop,” she whispered, sounding utterly defeated. “Please, stop.”

Pacing frantically in front of the bathroom door were Zeus and Apollo as they listened to their mistress’ distressing cries. Last time she was in pain, they had been told specifically by her _not_ to get help. But now she wasn’t there to stop them. They shared a look, then took off through the main house, and across the estate to the guest house.

Magnum nearly jumped out of his skin at hearing the lads bark at the door. He peeked through the window and watched them sit at sensing his presence. Ever so slowly, the PI cracked the door open which is when he heard their soft whines. That in addition to not looking prepared to rip him to shreds, an uneasy feeling rippled through him.

“Locate Higgins,” he told them because he remembered Higgins mentioning _locate_ was a command they knew well.

Apollo—or maybe it was Zeus—replied with a _woof_ and they got up to turn in the direction of the main house. Glancing over their backs, they checked to ensure he was paying attention. Trusting the Dobermans almost too easily, Magnum stepped out of the guest house, and the door closed behind him with a _click_.

It was like a gun firing to signal the start of a race.

Zeus and Apollo bounded toward the main house, confident Magnum would follow, and he did. Being in top shape, even with the gunshot wound he’d sustained recently, he was able to keep up with the dogs, though he swore they were running just a little faster than when they chased him around the property, and he pushed himself to stay close behind. They led him into Higgins’ room, right up to the closed bathroom door, and sat, heads tilting back to look at him.

Magnum was confused to say the least. Why did they bring him to Higgins’ _closed_ bath—

“Please, stop.”

The lads pawed at the bottom of the door and whined in response to their mistress’ pained voice that had grown louder since they first heard it. Surely this would be crossing more than one risky line into uncharted territory, right?

“Please. . . .”

_Screw it._

He’d let her kick his ass into next year for this if that’s what she deemed appropriate.

Magnum opened the door and the lads were quick to shove their way inside the bathroom to get to the shower. He grabbed the towel hanging on the back of the door and turned his side to the shower as he walked toward it.

Looking out of the corner of his eye, he could tell she was sitting on the shower floor. “Higgy, it’s me.”

A hushed whimper came in response. The PI slowly moved closer until he could reach in the shower to turn the water off. The lads moved out of his way as he averted his gaze and knelt down. He succeeded in getting the towel across her and she flinched.

“It’s just me. It’s Magnum,” he said softly, glancing at her face only to find her red rimmed eyes staring blankly ahead at the shower wall opposite her.

Higgins’ body fell against his and went limp. Magnum realized she had gone unconscious and took this opportunity to tuck the towel around her, then pull her into his arms so he could carry her to her bed, the lads remaining close. After he had her settled, he retrieved a dry towel from the bathroom, swiftly swapped out the damp one she was covered in, and tugged the blanket on her bed over her. Prepared to return to the bathroom to hang the damp towel up, the sound of her voice stopped him in his tracks.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

He was back at her bedside in an instant. “For what?”

“‘Cause you were shot.” Tears escaped her closed eyes. “And if I had stopped you….”

Magnum didn’t like where this was going. “Higgy—”

“I _should have_ stopped you—”

“Higgins,” he said firmly and she sucked in a breath, so he changed his approach. “Hey.” His voice softened. “Can you open your eyes for me? Can you look at me?”

Her eyes hesitantly opened and the movement of Magnum’s hand toward her was unhurried. When she didn’t recoil, he cupped the side of her face, thumb swiping the tears from her cheek. She exhaled at the tender action and he smiled.

“I promise you, me being shot was _not_ your fault,” the PI assured her. “Why are you blaming yourself?”

Juliet could feel her strong instinct to deflect wanting to take over. To protect her because she still wasn’t ready to face the internalized guilt she had been harboring.

_Not ready to face or don’t want to face?_ that little voice taunted.

“Higgy.” Magnum’s voice and touch brought her back to the present and she felt more tears rolling down her cheeks that hadn’t been there just a couple of seconds ago. “Talk to me. Please.”

She gnawed on the inside of her cheek. “Seeing you lying on the ground knowing you had been shot by someone you trusted made me think of what happened with Richard. He was killed by someone he and I both trusted and I wasn’t there to….”

“Stop it?” he provided.

“I know it sounds irrational. I know _it is_ irrational.” And it sounded more like she was trying to convince herself of that than him. “I didn’t know Ian was Viper. I hadn’t figured it out, but Richard had, and he paid the price for it. I lost him and couldn’t do a single thing to stop it from happening.” She took a breath, then continued. “Obviously, I didn’t know Hannah was going to shoot you, but there’s some part of me that feels guilty for not stopping you from going after her because then it could’ve been avoided, and you wouldn’t have….” Her words tapered off again, watery eyes meeting his attentive gaze. “I almost lost you, Thomas and that….it _terrified_ me. I can’t afford to lose anyone else I care about. I can’t.”

Something within Hggins broke the day Richard was killed and she nearly lost herself entirely in her contemptible effort to get closure. She knew she wouldn’t be able to bear the loss of someone else close to her. _Not again_.

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” he whispered. “I’m here now and I’m not going anywhere.”

The smile she gave him wavered, but it was the most positive and genuine response he’d gotten from her since the previous night. “Just don’t do it again, alright?”

He grinned and nodded, running his thumb over her cheek. “I’ll try my best.”

As her eyes drifted closed, it became clear to Magnum that he wasn’t the only one who needed to be handled with care.

**Author's Note:**

> Higgins telling the lads "no" in Russian to go along with my little headcanon that Higgins (of course) knows Russian. I mean, she's ex-MI6 and it’s canon she’s multilingual as we’ve heard her speak both Arabic (1.02) and Mandarin Chinese (1.13) in the show. I also think it's possible Zeus and Apollo understand more than English, so yeah.
> 
> Though I’ve heard Brits have a high alcohol tolerance, I kinda based Higgins’ tolerance off of my shockingly high alcohol tolerance considering my small size of only 5’ and about 95 pounds, and I’m not even British. It takes about 8-9 shots of vodka + 3-4 glasses of wine + 2 ish beers to get me absolutely wasted, so I made her tolerance a bit higher than mine, and went from there. The main difference though is that I don’t get hangovers (I’ve been drunk a handful of times before and never gotten a hangover, so lucky me).
> 
> Don't mind me projecting my internalized pain and self hate onto my faves in my writing. Ooops?


End file.
